


False Freedom

by Storm337



Series: 2019 Tumblr Drabbles [50]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye
Genre: Experimentation, Hellhound!Anti, Myth AU, Soft!Anti, Sympathetic!Anti, Torture, mythology AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24160339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Storm337/pseuds/Storm337
Summary: “Your freedom is just the price to pay for our very important research.” With Hellhound AntiRequested on Tumblr by Cryptvokeeper
Series: 2019 Tumblr Drabbles [50]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587562
Kudos: 10





	False Freedom

“Please,” Anti begs, the first day and the second and the third, for his first few weeks on the table and under the knife. “Please stop.” He begs through the fire and the pain, through the blinding lights on his body, cut open for the world to see and poke and prod. He whimpers and he cries and he howls as they continue to slice into his body, to add and take, to manipulate until he’s not sure what he is anymore. What was he to begin with? Not a hellhound, not a true hellhound, at least. But does it even matter what he was? All that matters if what he is, or is becoming, or will become. All that matters is the change. The change and the agony that is inflicted day in and day out. 

By a month he stops begging. He cries and whimpers, but they have beaten the words from him. By a year he crawls, reduced to prowling with his head down and his tail tucked. They continue to take from him- his blood, his flesh, his fur, his fire. They take his words and his identity. They take his dignity, until he’s not sure he had it in the first place, or if he ever deserved it to start with. They try to take his name, but Anti repeats it to himself in his head, a never ending mantra that helps him get through the tests and the torture and the long cold nights in his cage. He still has that, at least, even if its lost its meaning, if it ever had one. 

“Your freedom is just the price to pay for our very important research,” one of them says to Anti one day, the first time anyone has spoken directly to him in months, and the last time they will for months to come. The words are punctuated by the click of a collar around his neck, heavy metal that squeezes uncomfortably, and Anti wonders if the freedom he lost was ever his to begin with.


End file.
